Death
by wanderingmusician
Summary: Each time you die, you lose a little more of yourself.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Based on an odd concept involving dying and Terry Pratchett's Death, who is an anthropomorphic personification. For those of you who are familiar with Pratchett's work, this Death is not his Death. Also, I own none of this, other than my Death.

* * *

Harry Potter was only a year old, the first time he died. But Death took pity on the young child and his mother who had put such efforts into saving him, and so he sent the boy back almost completely whole.

Only a few days after his first death, the young Potter met Death again. He had been left on a doorstep in the beginning of November with only a blanket. Death came to the boy when hypothermia caused his heart to stop. Pitying the boy whose life had only just been spared, Death revived the boy. This time, though, Death had to take a more as payment, for even he cannot do anything for free.

After that Harry spent uninterrupted years with the Dursleys. He was quiet, almost never saying a word to his family. He spent his time in the closet which had been designated his room. He came out when told to by either Vernon or Petunia, but when left alone he invariably ended up sitting on the floor of his closet, staring into the darkness.

At the age of three Harry still hadn't spoken to his family, Petunia began to worry. This freakishness was far different from that of her sister's. When she looked in the boys eyes, she felt the troubling sensation that he wasn't _right_. Petunia had met clinically insane people before, and they had felt wrong too. But this was different. This was frightening.

At the age of four Vernon felt he had put up with the boy just sitting there doing nothing for long enough. He threw young Harry into the garden in front of the house, quickly showed him what were weeds and told him to weed the garden.

As he weeded the garden Harry found a small grey and black snake. It was small only about the length of his forearm. He stopped and stared at the snake, unsure of what to do. He had heard Petunia tell Dudley that he should leave snakes alone because they could bite him, but the snake was on top of some weeds.

"_Are you jusst going to sstare at me all day?"_

Harry was fairly certain that animals weren't supposed to talk. At least, they never did in the shows he saw playing on the television. But, he supposed, they snake had never done anything to him and didn't seem to want to hurt him.

"_I'm sorry. Would you please move?"_

"_Of course, Ssspeaker, if it pleasess you."_ And with that the snake left. Curious, Harry moved after it, deciding that now he had finally found someone to talk to who didn't hate him, he wasn't about to let them get away.

"_Wait, please? Would you stay and talk to me?"_ The snake stopped and stared at the boy.

And then Harry Potter was hit by a car.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Finally, a new chapter! I actually wrote this a few weeks ago, but I'd lost the notebook it was in. The next chapter should be coming out soon (and it will be longer). There's a certain new character introduced in this chapter that I'm particularly fond of. He's based off of a character from another British author I love.

* * *

It was two hours and thirty-seven minutes before anyone noticed Harry lying in the street.

A young woman was walking her dog down Privet Drive when she noticed him lying unconscious in the middle of the street and called emergency services. She spent almost ten minutes trying to staunch still bleeding wounds without jostling broken bones while waiting for help.

When the emergency vehicles arrives a rush of activity began. Harry was lifted carefully onto a stretcher and hooked up to an IV almost before he was fully in the ambulance. Wounds were bandaged and blood samples taken, to be sent to the hematology lab STAT. As vital signs were being taken, one paramedic made and awful observation.

"Look at how advanced the bruising is." Close observation revealed that the most recent bruises were hours old, and there were numerous older bruises.

It got worse. When the x-rays were developed they showed not only the injuries from the accident - two broken ribs, a hairline fracture in his right arm, and a broken femur - but also older injuries. Partially healed ribs, which had cracked again and an old break in the left arm which hadn't healed properly. Along with bruising that was obviously from the accident there were more suspicious bruises; bruises that mirrored the shape of a hand on Harry's upper arms and neck. It was also painfully obvious that he was malnourished- he was dangerously underweight.

Twenty four hours after entering the hospital, Harry was still unconscious. The hospital staff attending him were frantic. His vital signs had been maintaining stable levels, but now his heart rate was dropping, rapidly. One nurse was standing by his side doing chest compressions as another one prepared a defibrillator.

"Shit! 30...25...his heart rate just keeps falling!" The attendant watching the monitor was panicking. She was new, and had never had a patient in critical condition before. She was terrified of losing him. "Fuck! It's at zero!"

Quickly, the nurse doing chest compressions stepped aside and the defibrillator was placed on his chest.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to find himself in a completely gray environment with no distinction between sky and ground. A tall, thin, figure bearing a scythe walked slowly towards him.

"HELLO, HARRY POTTER." The words were heavy, spoken as if each syllable was the distant boom of a cannon.

Harry didn't respond to the apparition, he merely watched it approach with an impassive face.

"ALREADY YOU HAVE MET ME TWICE, YOUNG POTTER. EACH TIME YOU HAVE RETURNED TO YOUR WORLD WITH LESS THAN YOU MET ME WITH."

Ignoring the cryptic statement, Harry calmly looked the figure in the eyes. "You're Death." The apparition - Death - tilted its head in silent agreement.

"I AM DISINCLINED TO TAKE YOU WITH ME NOW, SO SOON AFTER WE LAST MET." The specter paused, though no expression showed on his skeletal face. One bony finger tapped against his chin, producing a strange clicking sound. "IF YOU RETURN YOU SHALL LOSE MORE THAN YOU DID OUR PAST TWO MEETINGS."

He received a non-committal shrug in response.

Pale blue eyes stared into bright green. Death's scythed tapped against his shoulder. "I SUPPOSE YOU CAN HARDLY MISS WHAT YOU DON'T REALIZE YOU HAVE." Death twirled his scythe. "YOU SHALL NOT BE RETURNING TO THE SAME FAMILY, BE ASSURED OF THAT."

Green eyes brightened a bit at that. Slowly, Harry nodded his head to Death.

"PEOPLE WILL WANT TO INTERROGATE YOU, YOUNG POTTER. ANSWER THEM HONESTLY."

As the scythe swished through the air towards Harry, Death spoke once more, his voice now heavier than before. It sounded like the slam of coffin lids, the resounding close of temple doors, and of dying screams on a battlefield. "JUSTICE _MUST_ BE SERVED."

* * *

Although the defibrillator restarted his heart fairly quickly, it was another twenty-four hours before Harry's eyes opened. Only a few minutes after he had awakened, two nurses and a police officer entered his room.

After introducing himself, Officer Nick Sinclair proceeded to ask a few simple questions; name, age, birthday. After acquiring this information, one of the nurses left the room.

There were a few more simple questions. Who do you live with, where do you go to school?

"Where do you live?"

Harry's brow furrowed for a moment before Harry answered. "The cupboard under the stairs." Although the Dursleys had warned him to never tell anyone about where he slept, Death had said he wouldn't have to go back to them. And Death was a much more imposing figure than Vernon. Though he lacked the aura of violence which surrounded Vernon Dursley, Death's aura was much stronger, and felt much more dangerous than Dursley's.

The nurse who had remained in the room gasped loudly. The officer twitched, but managed to keep his emotions locked in. He asked a few more questions about how Harry was feeling.

"Are you tired?" A negative response.

"Do you need anything?" Harry replied that a book would be nice.

"Are you hungry?" Green eyes watched the officer for a moment, contemplatively. No one had ever asked Harry if he was hungry before.

"I'm always hungry."

A look of undeniable sadness crossed Nick's face. After telling Harry that other people would be in to talk to him, the police officer left.

The nurse, a young woman, turned to leave, promising that she would return with something for him to read. She stopped in the doorway, turning back to look at the frail boy in the large hospital bed.

"Don't worry Mr. Potter, you won't be going back to those awful people."

* * *

Nick Sinclair was worried. He didn't like abuse cases, which this clearly was- abuse and severe neglect. There were almost no records of the boy anywhere, other than a birth certificate and some school records. The only health records the child had were for the immunizations required to attend school. Even though he had obviously had broken bones more than once, he had never seen a doctor for anything other than shots before he was picked up by the ambulance.

And his name sounded familiar. Nick was sure his cousin had mentioned it. Nick himself didn't keep in contact with the magical world; his mother was a squib and Nick didn't have any magic; but he was close enough to his magical cousins that he got information about what was happening in the hidden society. He was sure that the Potter's had been prominently involved in the recent magical war.

It was time for him to use the floo powder his cousin had given to him. He had investigating to do.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I start school this week. Contrary to expectations, this will make updates MUCH faster. I'm not as lazy during the school year. :)

* * *

Matthias Greengrass sighed as he disconnected the floo call from his squib cousin. It was, he reflected, a good thing that he had the forethought to connect his cousin's fireplace to Greengrass Manor's private floo system and to provide the man with floo powder.

Harry Potter, the victim of child abuse and neglect? The situation seemed so unrealistic that it was almost absurd. But he trusted Nick, the man was almost disgustingly honest and honorable.

Matthias sat down in his leather chair. If he recalled correctly, and he always did, Albus Dumbledore had taken charge of placing the young Potter heir in a new home after sealing the Potters' will and vaults. In the pandemonium that followed the Dark Lord's defeat no one had questioned Dumbledore's actions. Perhaps, Matthias thought, it was time for his department to revisit the events which occurred on and following the thirty-first of October, 1981. Surely they needed to examine the Potter boy. After all, he could hold the key to developing a shield that could protect against the killing curse. .

Yes, he decided, it was time for the Unspeakables to take an interest in the Potter case. All in the name of research, of course. It wouldn't do for the Department of Mysteries to suddenly take an interest in politics. But if they discovered evidence of severe abuse of power, which led to physical abuse of a small child - the Boy-Who-Lived, no less - then Dumbledore would discover just how much power the Unspeakables held.

* * *

Harry Potter was kept in the intensive care unit for a few more days after he woke up. The damage his internal organs had sustained from the hit were healing at an oddly accelerated rate, so the doctors presiding over his care reluctantly released him from intensive care.

The day he was moved out of the ICU, Nick and a woman from Child Protective Services came to talk to him. Harry, having been both free from the Dursley's influence and treated with overwhelming kindness for a week, was a little more open when speaking to the two adults than he had been during his previous interactions with hospital staff.

When the two adults left the room after questioning the boy they both wore faces of rage. Harry had not only told them about all the beatings and injuries he had received, in detail, and about the neglect inflicted on him, but also about the intense verbal abuse that had been relentlessly thrown at him.

As the CPS woman ranted about the Dursley family, and Vernon in particular, Nick interrupted her.

"Well, it could have been even worse," he commented dryly.

"Yes." The woman ran a hand through her frizzy black hair, obviously frazzled. "Thank God there wasn't sexual abuse, too" Both fell quiet as their minds catalogued the crimes of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, and plotted how to build their case for court.

* * *

Officer Nick Sinclair groaned as he rested his head in his hands. He was sitting in the rather lavish office of Desmond Zabini, who was now Harry Potter's lawyer. Nick honestly had no idea how his cousin had managed it, but Zabini, who was one of the best wizarding lawyers alive, had agreed to take the case without charging a knut. Waiting in the room along with Nick and Zabini were the Head of Magical Child Protective Services, the Chief of Criminal Affairs in the Muggle-Magical Affairs Department, and a representative Amelia Bones had sent from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

A middle-aged woman walked into the room and Zabini stepped out from behind his oak desk to usher her to the last available chair.

"Good day, Mrs. Potter-Black. We must apologize for requesting an appointment on such short notice." Zabini bowed slightly before reclaiming his seat behind the desk.

"Please, call me Dorea, Desmond." Her sharp grey eyes scanned the room, evaluating everyone who was there. "As this must be about my grandson, let us dispense with formalities and get down to business."

Nick tried to hide his surprise, but was sure that Dorea noticed it. She looked to be in her thirties, so how on earth could she be a grandmother?

After briefly telling Dorea how he was related to the Wizarding world, Nick began explaining the situation to her. He told her that her grandson had been hit by a car, how he had lain in the street for hours before anyone had called for help. He spoke about the injuries that Harry had sustained from the hit, and about the older injuries the hospital had found, and the malnourishment. Then he played tapes of the times he had talked to Harry, and questioned him about his 'family.'

By the end of his speech, Dorea's face had turned into a stiff mask and her fingernails were digging into the suede of her armchair.

"As repulsive as that is," she spoke calmly, obviously trying to keep her emotions in check, "it does not warrant the attention of three Ministry departments."

Sandra Belby took over the story then. "It was actually the Unspeakables who brought the case to my department's attention. They believe that the child could be useful in researching a shield for the Avada Kedavra curse. They came to my department to find out where the boy was so they could contact his guardians and get permission to bring him into the Department of Mysteries. His file was locked, so the agent who was working with the Unspeakables came to me. I unlocked the file and found out that my predecessor had locked it under the orders of Albus Dumbledore. Furthermore, Dumbledore was listed as the boy's guardian, even though Harry is clearly not under his care."

Belby went on to describe how she had started an official investigation into the Potter case, and met with the goblins to view the Potter will. As the will was now evidence for an official investigation, the goblins were free to let her read it.

"In fact," she said, smiling a little bit, "they seemed quite disgruntled that it had been sealed. They were rather unsubtle about their dislike of Dumbledore."

The Potters' had prepared a long list of possible guardians for their son. A list which Albus Dumbledore was not a part of. After Belby had finished reading the will, the Potter account manager informed her that a family called the Dursleys was receiving Ł300 a month from Harry's trust vault.

Belby frowned after relaying that information. "The account manager told me that Gringotts has protested this many times, but has been told that the withdrawals are authorized by Potter's guardian."

To say that Dorea Potter-Black was angry now would be an understatement. She was, and always had been, a Black, and she had the Black temper which had been made famous by her older cousin Walburga. The look in her eyes promised a fate worse than death for Dumbledore. However, her demeanor remained mostly impassive and she spoke calmly.

"I assume that no one on the list is fit to be a guardian, so you have called me in to take custody of the boy as I am his closest living relative?"

Sandra cleared her throat. "No, Mrs. Potter-Black, you are on the list."

This announcement was enough to shock Dorea into silence. Although she had been married to Charlus Potter, she had never forgotten the beliefs that had been instilled in her since birth by the Black family. When her son had started pursuing a mudblood she had been absolutely furious. When James was engaged to the mudblood she had tried everything in her power to have him disowned. She hadn't been able to affect his standing in the Potter family, but he had quickly been blasted off of the Black family tapestry and thus excluded from the line of succession for Head of the House of Black. Charlus had died only a month after Harry was born, and Dorea had cut ties with her son and his new family immediately after her husband's funeral.

Yet James had still believed that she would be a suitable guardian for his son? Perhaps something in his will would explain his choice, or perhaps it was simply foolish sentiment on his part.

"I see. I shall, of course, officially adopt the boy."

* * *

AN: Yes, Dorea is quite young for a grandmother. She's actually 40 years old. Trust me, the math works! In this story, she married Charlus during her last year of Hogwarts and had James shortly after, when she was 17. James and Lily were married soon after they graduated, and Harry was born when James was 19, making Dorea 36 at the time of her grandson's birth. Now that Harry is 4, Dorea is 40.


End file.
